Breaking Eddy
by Total Obliviation
Summary: Eddy attempts suicide by drinking cleaners and gasoline. Double D feels he's the one that should take all the blame. Can any good come out of this?
1. Explanation

_To whom it may concern,  
_

_If you're reading this, you know I'm dead. You know that I gulped down almost every bottle under my kitchen sink and then fell asleep in my bed, thinking about how much life sucks. Why did I do it? _

_I've been so sick of everything lately. I was sick of the grades, the disappointed parents, the beatings, the ridicule, and then taking everything out on my friends. I've been thinking about this for a long time, but never found the courage to do it. I'm sorry for treating people like crap, and I'm sorry if you really care that I'm gone. _

_The "Eds" – Double D, I know you always thought of me as unintelligent. Actually, I am. My vocabulary has just been more extended recently, because I've decided to look up some of your big fancy words in the dictionary to find out what they mean. I spent three hours reading words in the dictionary, just for the hell of it. I never meant to boss you two around as much as I did. I suppose I took everything out on you guys because I knew, no matter what, you would put up with me. I want to tell you that you both made me a better person, but I really haven't changed. I hope you'll miss me a little, but not too much, to the point of becoming depressed or anything. I've always thought of you as my brothers, so I can say this without feeling gay…I love you._

_Mom and Dad – Thank you for putting me down and always picking your other son over me when it came to anything. This isn't your fault, though, and if there's a heaven I'll be missing you just like I'll be missing Double D and Ed._

_Brother – You made me feel like shit. Although you weren't one of those big brothers who beat their kid brothers up, you still hurt my ego whenever you were home. You left me with the biggest footsteps to fill and everyone expected great things from me…And I couldn't please them. I still love you, bro. _

_Nazz – Please don't think this is your fault for turning me down last week in front of the whole school. I don't want you to think you're that special._

_Kevin – You weren't always an asshole…Wait, yes you were. Never mind._

_Pass this on as a final note of my remembrance, even though I made little or no impact on anything in this lifetime. _

_Sincerely,_

_Eddy._

_P.S.: The scams were never about jawbreakers. I always had money stashed in my room._


	2. Blame

The small radio Eddward had acquired some time ago was sitting on the wooden desk across his room, playing something gentle and acoustic. The lights were off, the windows were open, and the door was locked. A soft, toasty breeze floated through the window and tickled the bare spot were red socks left off and jean shorts had not yet met. The adolescent was curled into a ball against the headboard of the bed with his knees up to his chest and his face covered by delicate, smooth hands.

_How could this happen._

He rubbed his knuckles deep into his tired eyes and carelessly whipped at his runny nose. Today the birds weren't chirping merrily outside and the sun wasn't shining through the thin blinds. Today the world had simply seemed to stop.

_This is my fault._

It was almost time for summer. It was a time for most children to abandon all knowledge and any attempt at education. It was a time for friendship, jawbreakers, and an abundance of flawed scams. Now, none of those things would happen. Not with Eddy lying on his death bed, wasting away his last bit of life.

_Why. Why did he try to kill himself? And will he be able to recover? They said he drank gasoline – gasoline! He drank Windex and all purpose tile cleaner, and gasoline. It's my fault. He reads my books when I do my chores, when I read those damn sticky notes, and he must've found something about gasoline. Maybe he didn't read the measurements correctly. Maybe he only ingested 20g, or less._

A small knock and a tiny, fragile voice were heard beyond the thick wooden door. Double D didn't even acknowledge them. Instead, he got up and found a book and began flipping carefully through it's pages. In the dark he squinted at the minute block text.

_Loss of consciousness, vomiting, loss of vision, hemorrhaging of the internal organs and lungs…_

"Eddward, are you alright in there? Eddward, darling? I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

…_vertigo, hypotension, collapsed heart, convolutions, and death due to circulatory failure. Death. Gasoline. Why'd he drink the gasoline? It's entirely my fault. I'm the one to blame._

The light footsteps descended down the hallway and stairway. Double D snapped the book closed and hurled it with all his strength at the opposite side of the room. In result, it became tangled in a model of the Solar System and ripped it from the ceiling. The mess toppled on top of his wardrobe, knocking several more items down in the process.

_I'm so sorry Eddy…So…Sorry…I should've known…Should've recognized…Those bruises and scrapes after all those days…The ones I gave you ice and bandages for…The ones we never spoke about…Maybe all we needed to do was talk….Maybe I could've done more…I could've, I know I could've…Why didn't I…Horrible person…I deserve to be in the hospital…Not you…_

Exhausted from crying, worrying, and pulling out bits of his own hair, Double D lay down on the pillow and lulled into a deep, comforting sleep – warm tears drying on his face.

_Not already. I wasn't asleep that long._

The world was alive again. The sun poked through the windows and fell upon Double D's face, no longer blotchy and wet. He promptly got up and took a long, long shower. He pulled on his clothes as if he had terrible sunburn and it would hurt him to do it quickly. He was going to see Eddy in the hospital.

_You're going to hate me._

He poked ungratefully at his lumpy, apple-cinnamon oatmeal and ignored his mother's small comments and attempts to make him eat. There was no more beauty in the simple things anymore. All he could see now was the gloom.

_I won't blame you if you yell._

The car ride to the hospital was quiet and consisted of Mozart playing very faintly from the car speakers and Ed clutching Double D's hand the entire way there. Neither of them spoke, they simply exchanged melancholy looks, and occasionally tightened their grip on each other. They had nothing else.

_Eddy, you're going to want to hit me. It's my fault. Mine. I should've helped you. Please don't hate me._

"I don't think you want me with you. Do you? If you do I'll come, otherwise I'll go shopping and come back to pick you up in a few hours," his mother said quietly, stroking the side of her son's face.

He leaned towards her and embraced her tightly, kissing her softly on the cheek. The car door was closed and Double D watched his mother pull carefully out of the parking lot. This was one of the few times he'd seen her all month.

_It's not like you actually care._

Ed, still holding his friend's hand, whimpered and tugged on it gently. They walked through the sliding doors, to the front desk, to the elevator with the room number card, to the fourth floor.

_I can't live without you by my side._

"Ed," Double D whispered hoarsely. His voice sounded strange and unfamiliar, as if he'd forgotten how to use it. "Ed, be a big boy. Don't hug him right at first…He'll be in a lot of pain…He'll have a lot of tubes…Okay, Ed?"

_You can do this. Face him. Face him and take the blame. You allowed this to happen._

Ed shook his head in agreement and let go of Double D's sweaty hand. Slowly, they walked through the hallway looking for the right room. They found it – a plastic sign, 428. Together they walked timidly into the hospital room and set their eyes upon Eddy, helpless and seemingly lifeless.


	3. Love

The room was pale yellow – the sheets snow white. There was a vase of brightly colored flowers next to the bed, which was obscured by a large lump under a thin looking blanket.

The lump rose and fell softly, slowly. Ed peered nervously at Double D who swallowed the budge climbing his throat and stepped forward.

_Oh, Eddy._

Eddy was rolled onto his side, his face uneasy in his slumber, with the cotton blanket pulled up over his jet black hair. A tube was helping him breathe through his nose, and an IV was visible on his arm.

_Look at you._

Eddy let out a small groan as he shifted slightly. Ed seemed too frightened to go anywhere near him and stood against the wall farthest from his bed. Double D noiselessly pulled up a worn, wooden chair up to Eddy. He sat and extended a pale, shaking hand. Eddy had both arms thrown over his head; his face had squashed up against one chubby arm.

_I hope you'll forgive me. Please, forgive me…_

The timid touch of Double D's fingertips on Eddy's made him drift out of his light sleep. Once he did he jerked up into a sitting position and moaned from his quick action.

"No," Eddy's broken voice said shortly before turning his head away.

_No?  
_

He sniffled and added very quietly, "Leave. Now."

_I think you hate me._

"Eddy! You're alive!" Ed bound forward and almost threw his arms around his friend, but then remembered Double D's words and stopped. He merely looked confused and plopped down onto the linoleum where he stood.

_You don't hate Ed. Just me._

"Eddy, why's your face wet? Huh, bucko?"

_Are you crying?  
_

"Go away, Ed. Go home!"

_You won't even acknowledge me._

Eddy sniffed again and Ed looked over at Double D for an answer.

"Ed...Can you go down to the cafeteria and get yourself something to drink? Here," Double D handed him a crumpled bill, "Come right back."

"Okie dokie!" Ed said happily and trotted out of the room.

There was a crushing silence filling the room. It overpowered everything else there – the beeping of the machines and the nurses squeaky shoes. It weighed down on the two heavily, forcing them to feel each others presence.

_Say something._

Double D was facing the window, looking down at an empty, motionless parking lot. Eddy was facing the opposing wall, refusing to turn around to look at his friend.

_Say anything._

The walls, the windows, and the outside world held no interest to the boys. Both knew what they wanted to say, what they should say, but said nothing. Only the thick, deafening silence was to be heard.

___Will you yell? Will you cry? Will you ignore me?_

Double D turned around and took tiny steps to the bed. Eddy's shoulder twitched slightly as he walked around the edge of the bed and stared down at him. He looked up after several minutes, then immediately looking away.

___Eddy…Say something…Say anything…Don't look away. Eddy…Please...Why can't you just yell or hit me? At least then I'll know how you're feeling. This is unbearable…_

Double D's gorgeous green eyes were filled with hurt, questioning, and guilt. Eddy saw, only for a split second, tears clinging to his long eyelashes. His pain was enough to burn through Eddy's heart - making him unable to speak.

___What are you going to think of me?_

Double D pivoted and headed for the exit. He paused momentarily in the doorway before speaking to the wall.

"I love you."

Eddy's eyes widened at the tall boy leaving the room, his posture once so perfect now slumped and dreary. The words stung him, like a shot, like the burning he got when he drank those cleaners.

"DOUBLE D!" Eddy shouted, his voice cracking.

He saw his friend through the glass look at him, tears now shimmering on his tender cheeks, but continue to walk away.

___I hope you don't hate me. Because it'd kill me. It'd kill me like it almost killed you._


	4. Promise

The days after the Ed's visit to the hospital were considerably less dramatic. Double D remained cooped up in his sterile, organized room and only left to eat and use the lavatory. Ed, although always oblivious to the bad situations before, cried a fair amount about Eddy still not returning home and indulged in unhealthy food and depressing (and gory) movies. Eddy was refusing to eat or speak to anyone and was then placed in intensive care in fear that he may be trying to kill himself again. He was now under watch constantly.

"I hear it won't be a month until they let Eddy out of there," Jonny whispered, though loud enough to hear.

"I hear he's tried to kill himself again," Jimmy said, a note of worry hidden deep in his voice.

"I heard that he did kill himself," Nazz offered.

Double D could hear it all, as he had been able to for the past few days. His bedroom window was constantly open and the conversation held in the street was often loud enough for him to overhear. At first, he'd tried ignoring it all, but he soon found it easier to accept the gossip and muse on the fact that none of them had been to the hospital, and it wasn't true at all.

_I wish I would've remained with you to hear whatever it was you had to say._

He ran his fingers over the excruciatingly clean window sill. The backs of his knees were itching from the carpet beneath them.

_No. No, I know what you would've said. Just like Kevin. You would've said exactly the same thing._

He could see Eddy clearly in his mind now, the burning hatred flashing in his eyes every time Kevin tormented him with the small, powerful word.

_Fag._

When they were younger it would've been "dork", but quickly it had evolved to something much more potent.

_You would've called me a fag._

Double D's limp arms barley helped heave himself off the floor and he immediately collapsed on to his bed. Moving made his head swirl and throb; it was better to stay motionless and be devoured by his own thoughts.

_Maybe I am a fag for loving you, Eddy. Maybe I'm a fag just like Kevin always says._

A picture frame stood on his bedside table. The glass was cracked from when it'd fallen once, but the memory was still there in bright colors, shining through. It was the previous summer, on the day the Eds had found the camera and taken the pictures for their calendar scheme. There was one that had turned out exceptionally well and was never damaged.

_I remember that day so well. I remember last summer so well. I remember when we were okay._

Ed was on the right, grinning and showing his pink gums, happiness glinting in his eyes. Eddy was on the left with a large, genuine smile. It was apparent he was standing on tippy-toes when it was taken, because he was just as tall as Double D. Last was Double D, smiling toothily and squished awkwardly in between his two best friends, but somehow putting aside the fact that his personal space had totally been invaded.

_A perfect day. A perfect friendship._

He gently tipped the frame on its front, hiding the picture from all view.

_Is this the end of us?_

The voices below seemed to have drifted off somewhere along the lines. Now all Double D could do was listen to the silence. He began wondering more about Eddy's suicide and what could've prompted it. He began feeling an overwhelming amount of anger towards the people who were mentioned in the letter. Double D quickly pushed all thoughts out of his mind.

_It's your fault, remember?_

A lone piece of paper fluttered off the desk a few feet away. Weakly, Double D pulled himself off the bed and gently removed it from the floor. It lay flat and delicate in his hands that were held so far away from his body. It seemed as if he believed the paper would burst into flames at any given moment.

_I should return this to the McGee family._

The white paper was lined with blue, filled with black, looped words. They were neat and straight – you would've never thought this was a suicide note.

_But it's my fault. I've done enough to damage them. They shouldn't have to stand to look at me._

He remembered, in somewhat of a blur, the day it had happened. He couldn't imagine anything he wouldn't give up to erase that memory. Double D slowly pulled the paper closer so the writing was legible. A few places were suddenly splotchy, the paper shaking violently. He couldn't stand thinking about this today; he fell onto the carpet and clung to the knees pulled up so tightly to his chest.

_You could've killed him. You idiot, you could've killed him! He wanted to die – wanted to leave you! _

Double D's self interrogation made him cry, if possible, even harder. The tears were merciless and his asthma was getting the better of him. He groped around his desk and found his inhaler. He shoved the plastic tube into his mouth and pressed the top, gulping down air and medicine. The foul tasting residue lingered in his mouth but his airway had been unclogged and he wasn't quite as hysteric.

_I want to die right now, too. I won't leave you Eddy. I made a promise._

Double D tried moving but winced – his legs were refusing to work. So he simply lie down on the carpet and use his arms and pillows for the moment.

…_Made you a promise. I said I was your best friend. It's not a title, it's a promise._

He felt his eyelids growing heavier by the second. Edd knew he should get up to lie in bed properly, but even though his mind said "GO", his body wouldn't work.

_You broke the promise. _

He closed his eyes for a second, figuring he'd just let them rest. Then he'd get up and he would put this whole break down behind him.

_But I won't. I won't do this to you. See, Eddy, I can't be that cold hearted. I can't leave you. But maybe you wouldn't even care…I have so much to live for…But this pain, it's unreal. I've never felt such a combination of physical and mental weakness…_

Double D's whole body relaxed and gave into the soothing sensation of falling asleep, however uncomfortable it may be on the floor.

…_I think I can survive. Only for you and Ed._


	5. Pain

_What day is it?_

It had been a little over a week since Double D had checked the days off his calendar with big red Xs. The days didn't seem important now, did they? All that mattered was the day he saw that black Camry pull down the street, announcing Eddy's arrival.

_You should be home soon, shouldn't you?_

His room was not in order. The calendar was unmarked, Jim had not been properly cared for, and the desk chair was now located next to the window. Books lay scattered about Double D's desk, most of which were medical books he'd checked out from the library. He was now obsessed with Eddy's condition – they'd diagnosed him with major clinical depression.

_I miss you._

These days Eddward had woken up to sticky notes, which were now more comforting and less demanding. He barely did any chores anymore. When he was assigned a task, he would ignore it unless he felt up to it. When his mother came home from work around midnight (at the earliest), he accepted the shameful looks and questions she gave him.

_I know you don't miss me. Only Ed, right? Right._

Double D sat down at the seat drawn to the window. This is where he now spent a good portion of the day. He could be learning and bettering himself, but instead he chose to worry over a friend who so wrongly neglected him.

_Today might be the day you come home._

His hands twisted nervously in his lap. They were always shaky and cold – as if Eddy's suicide attempt had somehow killed a part of him.

_What happens when you get back? Do you speak to me or Ed? Do you return to school in the fall to finish our last year of middle school? _

A car was pulling up the street. Double D's heart leapt into his throat and he rose from the chair, only to be disappointed. It was only Ed's car. Sarah had probably been chauffeured by their mother to dance lessons.

_Are we friends when you return?_

Edd stood. Swirling darkness filled the corners of his eyes and his head felt as if it were floating. His weak knees wobbled and he clenched his eyes closed while grabbing onto the back of the chair for support.

_I don't think so._

A pang of hurt struck Double D, his stomach clenched and bile rose in his throat. He opened his eyes slowly and walked to the door. He'd been close to black outs all the time. He hadn't been sleeping, eating, and twice he'd skipped morning showers. Not that morning showers had ever been too important for a kid, but this was Eddward, not any old kid.

_Oh, Eddy. This hurts me so bad…_

Down the stairs, one at a time. Always slowly and cautiously. His mother had once said, "You don't want to trip and break your pretty face, do you now, Honey?" Of course, this was back when he was little and she worked considerably less.

_I don't know how to rid myself of this pain. It seems endless, but I hope the end is near. The end could be today. You could come home, forgive me, and we could carry out our roles in society – troublesome teenagers, wandering around for a real cause…_

The living room was empty, cold, and dark. The rest of the house turned out to be no more welcoming. He adjusted the ever present beanie on top of his head before turning the door handle and stepping out into the sunlight.

_What did those books say about self-mutilation?_

Nobody was outside playing in the cul-de-sac. They were all too busy, he assumed. It was usually only the Eds sitting around on the hot sidewalks planning on who to scam next.

…_By causing physical pain, the emotional pain or stress dies…_

Suddenly, Double D had an idea that seemed brilliant to him. The rest of society would sadly disagree.


	6. Insanity

_Another prolonged day._

All he could remember was pleasure from the pain. That and the small appreciation he'd normally had for simple masterpieces, like the way snowflakes are all different or the way a flower looks.

_Maybe Eddy will be home today._

The blood had been so dark and rich running down his hands and dripping off his fingertips into the bathroom sink. It had turned pink when rushing water spilled out of the tap, and then disappeared completely down the drain.

_Maybe. Maybe. Maybe._

Double D had taken a towel and firmly wrapped it around the oozing wound, cutting off the flow of blood, and fallen asleep as soon as he flopped on his bed.

_I think I cleaned it all up last night…_

He'd woken at four in the morning and looked at the crusty gash along his forearm and chuckled a little to himself.

_Last night... _

How sick and twisted his mind was now, nobody could ever imagine. He crept out of the house and threw the stiff, bloody rag down a sewer drain to hide all evidence. Edd didn't clean the cut, though, and made no means of hiding it.

…_I don't think I did it good enough._

His parents were never home, he was currently friendless and hiding in his room, who would ever know? Who would ever care?

_This life is still hell._

Now Eddward sat up gingerly, rubbing his eyes and looking at his arm. He touched the sore, pink area around the wound. It had felt so good last night, and he'd slept fairly well, but now the fuzzy inner feeling was gone.

_Where did I put it?_

The night had been somewhat of a blur after he'd taken captive of a razor blade from the garage.

_Oh, I remember now._

He picked up the picture of his two, beloved friends from the table beside his bed. Slowly he unhinged the back, as if meaning to remove the picture. An old silver blade lay in front of him, hidden between the photo and the back of the frame.

_I want to forget about Eddy again._

Edd placed the blade on the tip of the index finger on his left hand.

_I want to feel good._

He applied a small amount of pressure and dragged the razor down the entire length of his finger. Blood trickled from the line he'd made on his skin and he bit his lower lip, smiling a little as the burdens of his life seemed to lift off his heart.

_That's better._

The blood was restless, and kept dripping off his hand a full five minutes until it began to clot, and the bleeding subsided.

_I'm sick of this daily ritual, this constant waiting, this hell. I would give anything – anything! – for you to come home today. I would give my life for you to be okay. _

Eddward concealed the blade once again and took his regular seat next to his window. He would wait here for hours, maybe even until night fall, waiting for the familiarity of Eddy's car, loud without a muffler.

_Isn't this what sick people do? Injure themselves to feel good? I'm not sick. I'm fine. I'm fine! Eddy's the one who has major depression, not I. This self-mutilation, this is an easy way to figure everything out…To feel good…I'm not sick!_

The dead end was still and silent, it had been for the past week without Eddy, even though the gossip had died down. Now everyone was talking about the new renovations at the Candy Store.

_Am I?_

Anxiety gripped Double D tightly, binding him to the chair, forcing his eyes to stay glued on Ratthink Avenue.

_No. I'm fine. I'm perfectly normal, perfectly fine._

Eddward's heart stopped at the sound of a car pulling up the street.

_Eddy._

His fingernails dug into the wood of the chair. The front of a black Camry appeared and it chugged its way to Eddy's driveway and parked. Eddward forgot to breathe, his nails dug deeper, and he'll swear his heart never returned beating after that.


	7. NEW AUTHORS NOTE 101909

A/N: 10-19-09 I have edited the previous chapters and I'm really going to stick with finishing this story. I mean it this time! I do have a really tough schedule this year as a Junior, but I'm going to try my hardest. My writing style will be dramatically different in the next chapter than the previous few. It has been two years, after all, and things change. Let me know if you like or dislike my style now. A big thank you to my fans, again, for your constant support. Thank you, Brock Gwaltney, for always making me feel like I am the best thing in the whole world. (Even though I'm probably just the best thing in your world – well, second, next to Milson.)


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